


Not Yet Legends

by LeBibish



Category: Brave (2012)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Beginnings, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Pre-Canon, underage betrothal but not marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:46:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeBibish/pseuds/LeBibish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Elinor was twelve years old, she decided she was going to become a princess. She also met Fergus.</p><p>When she was twenty, she met him for the second time. And ended up becoming a Queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire and Sword

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ancor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ancor/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide Ancor! I hope this meets some of what you wanted.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to Brave or any of the characters played with here. I’m vaguely setting this on the Outer Hebrides, islands to the west of Scotland which include the Isle of Lewis where many of the references used in the movie came from. Disney played fast and loose with Scottish history and I am following in their footsteps so IN NO WAY should this be considered anything other than an extremely alternate history. Great info from: http://madeofwynn.net/2012/07/09/a-medievalists-review-of-brave/ including several other posts there about the Middle Ages and women in the Middle Ages.
> 
> Warning: Elinor is twelve and getting betrothed to an older (but still underage) boy. They are not getting married, they are not even thinking about sex but this is part of an arranged marriage. I didn't tag it as underage but that could be an issue for some people. Chapter 2 starts up again when she is twenty and is when they actually get married.

**Fire and Sword: A Daughter’s Duty**

_High above the fields and forests surrounding the fortress of Dun_ _Árd, there stands the sharp peak of the Crone’s Tooth and the glorious descent of the Fire Falls. In ancient times, only the great Kings were brave enough to scale the towering rock and drink from the magical waters. They were strong and good men and their swords and shields protected the kingdom from all harm and that is what they are remembered for. By their sides, stood great Queens, to keep the hearth fires warm in times of peace and to fan the flames of passion in times of war. It is the duty of all leaders, to bear both the sharp edge of the sword and the heat of the fire._

_Remember, Elinor. Legends are lessons..._

_“They ring with truth. Yes, mother, I’ll remember.”_

 

Elinor was twelve when she first met Fergus. He was still young himself, beardless and skinny as a bean pole, but he was already taller than many of the grown men around him. From the doorway where Elinor stood, his wild red hair seemed to blaze like a flag against the summer sky.

 His father limped slightly in front of him and their clan staggered behind. They were ragged and dirty and clearly tired, but she could hear them laughing and telling stories as if nothing was wrong. Babies cried and mothers sighed and the warriors of the clan jostled each other as they waited impatiently.

Elinor smoothed her hands against the fine weave of her best dress. With her mother ill in bed, it fell to her to stand as Lady of Dun Árd to greet their guests with grace and dignity—no matter how ill-kempt they might be nor how frightened she might secretly feel.

 Bruised and with blood spotting his clothing, the lord of Broch Caillte walked up to Elinor’s father, his son a step behind him. The two lords clasped hands solemnly, then turned to their respective children and introduced them:

 “My son and heir, young Fergus.”

 “My daughter and last heir, Elinor.” Elinor curtsied prettily, a gesture she had practiced for hours under her mother’s guidance. As she rose, she met young Fergus's eyes—or tried to. His teeth were clenched and he was glaring at the ground. She felt her legs start to tremble and she almost shrank away from him until a wave of fierce anger filled her. Instead, she stiffened her spine, lifted her head, and invited these strangers into her home.

 As she left the men behind, marching determinedly through the halls, she pictured the men and women who had been following behind. Broch Caillte, she knew, had been overrun by Northmen when they refused to bow to customs of the new Northern King who claimed the islands as part of his Kingdom of Mann.

Their lands lost to fire and ash, they had fled across the reach of the long island to the forests of Dun Árd, looking for sanctuary.

 Elinor’s own brothers were lost too, fallen on battlefields spread across the different islands, fighting Northmen on land and sea, fighting rival clans, and sometimes fighting wandering Normans. They were men of the sword, the sons of Dun Árd, and now there was only her left as heir to the clan and lands.

 How many of the girls following Fergus and his father had lost their brothers too? How many of his own family had Fergus lost before he ended up here, begging for shelter? Elinor’s shoulders fell slightly and her steps softened. She glanced behind her and, seeing no one there, knew that her father would have little idea what to do to make sure their guests had some measure of comfort.

 Elinor stopped by the kitchens to make sure that the housekeeper was taking care of things. For a while she was caught up in the whirlwind of efficiency and order that was Amice running everyone ragged. There were make shift beds to fill up in the few rooms of the fort and tents to manage in the grounds. There was food to cook and ale to find and medicine and bandages to make and distribute.

 Eventually, Elinor managed to quietly slip away into the family rooms of the Lord and Lady.

Elinor’s mother had retreated into herself after the news that Elinor’s last brother had fallen reached Dun Árd. She lay in bed staring at the walls, even her embroidery abandoned.

 The Lady Cateline had always been a bit strange to the island-folk but much beloved. Quietly graceful and full of strange manners and gentle words, she had come to Dun Árd from across the sea. Some of the young women of the clan whispered that the Lady Cateline had been raised to become a princess. That she had been meant to marry a prince and when she ran off to marry a wild Scottish lord, her family had disavowed her.

 Elinor knew that wasn’t true; Cateline still wrote to several of her sisters. But Elinor had never met any of them and Cateline had never been willing to talk about her family. Instead, she distracted Elinor with stories and legends. She wove tales of fierce bears and wise salmon and talking rings. She filled Elinor’s imagination with legends of the ancient kingdom that had once united the islands—not like the invading false kingdom of the Norse, but a true and good land led by brave men and clever women.

 Elinor’s favorite stories were about princesses who brought peace to their people not through terrible deeds and great adventures but through powerful words and strong marriages. A princess was an example to her people, was beloved by her people. A princess, Elinor felt, was very much like the Lady Cateline.

 Even after retreating to her bedchamber, Cateline still told Elinor stories. Sometimes Elinor would crawl into the bed like a babe and burrow into her mother’s arms listening. Sometimes she would sit and brush her mother’s dark hair while Cateline’s lilting voice filled the room.

 Afterwards, Elinor would find her friend Maudie and share the stories with her. The two girls would huddle together near a fire, whispering and giggling about what it would be like to be a princess in a story. Princesses, Maudie said wistfully, never had chores in the kitchen or stables but could spend their time reading and sewing and entertaining. Princesses, Elinor sighed, didn’t have to have lessons on archery and knives. They could depend on others to protect them and didn’t have to fear raiding Clansmen or invading Northmen. A princess could weave peace with her words.

 A princess married for the good of her kingdom and people.

 When Elinor crawled into her mother’s bed, she found Lady Cateline already asleep. She didn’t wake her, but lay staring at the ceiling until everything was dark and her own eyes closed.

 

 ***

 Amice had originally been the head cook at Dun Árd and when Lady Cateline had become unable, she had taken over most of the organizing and direction of the household. She was also Maudie’s mother and she was teaching both of the girls the arts involved in keeping an entire clan fed and a fortress clean and well lit. Sometimes, if they had been especially helpful (or, alternatively, if they were getting in the way too much), she would let the two girls escape their duties.

Now, their hands still reddened and damp, she had sent them off from where the rest of the women were sorting newly washed laundry. They were standing at one of the high windows of the Dun, watching the men below.

 Elinor kept staring at Fergus, who still stood out. He had started a pushing contest with some other young men and his kilt was covered in mud and grass stains. He was growling playfully and his large nose and wild hair made him rather silly. He reminded Elinor of one of her father’s dogs; a puppy not grown into his paws, tripping over himself all the time, but you knew he was going to grow up into a fierce animal and strong hunter.

 “That’s him, hey?” Maudie whispered, nudging Elinor’s ribs with her bony elbow. Elinor flinched away, then drew herself up proudly.

 “Is that the heir of Broch Caillte, you mean? What makes you say that?”

 “Well, I heard he was a tall one with flaming hair. Like that one. Oooh, aren’t you lucky?”

 “Lucky? Just because he’s a bit handsome doesn’t mean he’s actually good for anything.” Elinor said haughtily.

 “Handsome, eh?” Boomed a voice from behind the girls. They whirled around, twin gasps echoing.

 Elinor could feel her cheeks warming with a fierce blush. Maudie started hiccuping. Elinor’s father stood there, grinning, next to the grizzled and scarred lord of the lost Broch Cailte, who was also grinning.

 This was her future father-in-law.

 “Well, it’s good you think so at least, lassie. That tall loon of mine is good for more than a look or two though.” Her face was probably as red as his hair now. The scar across his face smoothed out a bit and his eyes looked kind—and very tired. “He’ll do well by you, I promise that.”

 She dropped into a deep curtsy, hoping her mother never heard of this particular encounter. Maudie was still hiccuping wildly next to her and Elinor grabbed her friend’s elbow and tugged her into a clumsy curtsy of her own. Then the two of them bobbed up like ducklings surfacing from a cold pond and dashed around the corner.

 Pausing, Elinor pushed Maudie down the hall, motioning for her to keep running. Maudie could make as much noise as a bear when she rushed about—an excellent distraction. Elinor herself paused at the edge of the corner, listening quietly.

 “So that’s the girl, eh? Seems to have decent enough manners. Don’t know why you’re sending her off. Can’t imagine Roman manners are any better.”

 “Norman, man. Not Roman.”

 “Ach, Normans, Romans. They’re all the same. There’s nothing your girl can learn there she couldn’t learn here. And she and my boy deserve some time to get to know each other.”

 “They’ll do well enough after they’re married. Cateline’s sister will take care of Elinor and her mother. Her husband’s a good man, for a Norman. Elinor will learn some more fancy manners and fussy arts, like her mother wants. And the two of them will be safe.” Her father sounded tired too.

 “Safe, huh. Forgot what that feels like myself.”

 “Aye. Damn Northern devils.”

 Elinor heard the two men spit on the floor before they continued walking past. She rested her head against the cool stone of the corridor. In a few days, she’d be betrothed to Fergus, who hadn’t said a word to her yet or even bothered to meet her eyes. Their promise to marry would unite the two clans. Shortly after that she and her mother would board a ship and head off to the south and east to live with her aunt’s family in lands Elinor only knew from stories.

 Over the next fortnight, everything about her life was going to change.

 

***

 There were plenty of chores to tend to over the next few days before the start of the games. Elinor’s father had organized them to let the warriors of both clans show off and get a feel for each other in friendly competition before they were expected to work and fight side by side.

 At the games themselves, the lady of Dun Árd made a rare appearance, a gesture towards their guests and soon-to-be clansmen. She was pale and quiet but present and smiling. She had been more and more like her old self the closer the time came to them leaving the island.

 The two ladies were sitting on a simple dais along with the two lords. Maud was standing behind Elinor, ready to fetch anything she might need and excited to have such an excellent view of the events.

 Both clans were short on young men able enough to participate and Broch Caillte had the added disadvantage of having fled across the entire island immediately after fighting, and losing, a vicious battle. Tired as they were, the men from Broch Caillte were making a better showing than Dun Árd. Fergus was participating, his sword glinting in the sun, and his red hair like a banner that his clansmen were rallying to.

 Elinor felt Maudie bend down to whisper into her ear. “Isn’t it exciting? It’s like you’re a princess and they’re fighting for your hand.”

 Elinor’s nose wrinkled and she shook her head. “It’s not a real competition. Everyone knows I’m marrying Fergus.”

 “Still, he’s out there proving himself to you, ain’t he? Just like the stories. And he’s doing good too!”

 Elinor felt her shoulders slump and she determinedly straightened her back and held her head up high. “Hush, Maudie.”

 Fergus was winning more than his share of games. Elinor wondered if some of the men were letting him win, the son of their lord and the new heir of two clans. He might be near half as tall as the caber, but he was nigh as skinny as well. She wasn’t sure how he managed to throw it so far.

 He wasn’t showing off for her, she knew. Days after their first introduction, he had still barely looked at her, his eyes glancing over her and his limbs jittering with impatience whenever they were in the same room. Even at meals, he’d spent all of his time messing about with his friends and throwing bones at the dogs.

 He definitely wasn’t showing off for _her_.

 

***

 Elinor wasn’t involved in the negotiations for the betrothal, but she caught bits and pieces of the agreement by eavesdropping on various conversations over the days and nights.

 In the great hall, there was plenty to listen to.

 The two clans would join together as soon as the betrothal was announced—dropping their previous names for a new title, DunBroch. She picked this up mostly from a few men grumbling it was a stupid name before getting jumped on by some others who claimed it represented a double sense of protection. That particular brawl ended when Amice dumped a cauldron full of water for the stew over them and then made them go off to refill it.

 Elinor wouldn’t be around to watch the two clans learn to work together.

 As soon as she returned, she’d be wed to Fergus. Elinor had heard their parents arguing several times. His father wanted her back at sixteen, which was the youngest the local priest would agree that she was could consent to the holy state of marriage. Her mother, in an unusual show of passion, was insisting on eighteen. Her father, also unusually, was quiet.

 At the feast after the last of the games, which everyone agreed that Fergus had won, Elinor excused herself with a claim that she was off to find the victor, who hadn’t shown to dinner yet. The parents all nodded in distracted approval while continuing their hissed discussion.

 She headed to the kitchens, keeping her steps light and holding the edges of her skirt to keep them from making noise or gathering too much dust. This was her only truly fine dress and she wanted to keep it nice to impress her aunt with. She overheard a few more conversations, catching a word here and there over the gentle roar of the feasting.

 The men of Dun Árd were impressed with Fergus’s showing. He was stronger than he looked and fierce as a bear, they said. He would be a true sword to protect the Clan. It seemed to be taking the sting out of their own losses.

 In the kitchens, Maudie was talking with some of the other girls. Elinor tried to stay out of view. Ever since the betrothal had become common knowledge, the kitchen girls had alternated between sighing over “how romantic” it was or commiserating with her about marrying a man she didn’t know at all.

 “He probably doesn’t want to marry her at all; it’s just his duty. He hasn’t even spoken one word to her.” Edith had a mean streak and Elinor prayed daily that she’d marry some farmer far away from the Dun and Elinor would never have to listen to her again.

 “Yeah, and that’s why they’re sending her off. Because he doesn’t want to look at her.” Jean wasn’t that mean on her own, but around Edith she seemed to feel the need to be even more spiteful than her. As if it was an archery contest and the two of them were competing to see whose barbs struck truer.

 A loud clang reverberated through the kitchens as Maudie slammed a pot onto the stone counter. “Stop up your gobs already! Elinor’s off to learn to be a princess and it isn’t no never mind to you two.”

 “A princess!” Elinor was sure she heard laughter in their cries. Sweet Maudie, didn’t she understand anything? She had heard them say this very thing, more than once. Maud might seem a little simple at times, but she was Elinor’s best friend for a reason.

 “Well of course a princess.” Maudie said haughtily. “She’s the only daughter of the clan leader and she’s going to marry the only son of another lord. Their marriage joins the clans and protects the people and they’re already planning to build a great big castle for all of us because of it! Princesses live in castles and get married for politics.”

 “But that’s not—“

 Maudie verbally pushed right past the girls’ protest. “She’s headed off on a grand adventure over the sea where there’s a kingdom full of lords and ladies like her aunt and uncle. Right? She’s going to learn all sorts of fancy manners and wear beautiful dresses and live in their castle until the one here’s done with. Princesses do all those things.”

 “Yeah, but—”

 “And then she’s coming back when she’s grown up and castle’s been built for her to live in. And she’ll be the most beautiful and graceful lady ever and she’ll be marrying the heir to the castle who’s already fought for her hand.”

 “…”

 “Elinor’s going to be a princess and you being jealous and spiteful isn’t any use to anyone. So shut it.”

 Maudie sounded sure and confident and completely unshakeable. As Elinor snuck away, she felt her own hands trembling.

 A princess? It did all sound a bit like one of her mother’s tales of the ancient kingdom of the Isles. She _was_ bringing peace and protection to her people through marriage, wasn’t she? And even if they weren’t really competing for her hand, there _had_ been a competition between all the young men to show their strength. And Fergus _had_ done the best of all of them. And she _was_ leaving for years and years to live with far off relatives in a foreign land.

 She was kind of like a princess, wasn’t she? And Edith and Jean were jealous, of course. It didn’t matter that Fergus wasn’t looking at her now. When she came back, regal and beautiful and all grown up, he’d look at her then. He wouldn’t be able to help himself.

 Elinor tucked her hands into the sleeves of her dress and her already quiet steps smoothed into the graceful sweep that Lady Cateline was famous for and that Elinor and Maudie had spent days and days practicing.

 As she walked through the halls of the fortress, she imagined it bigger and grander, a true castle. She kept out of the great hall, full of shouting and singing, and the more lighted and therefore more frequently used hallways.

 In one of the darker and colder corners, she almost ran into Fergus and one of his near constant companions, a shorter youth with a darker shade of the clan’s trademark red hair. She quickly ducked behind a tapestry that stretched from the ceiling to the floor, hoping the young men hadn’t seen her.

 “I don’t how you’re being so calm, man. We could be fighting—taking back our lands from those bastards.”

 “Leave off already. It’s done. You want a fight? I’m happy enough to beat you.”

 “Don’t you have any pride? Marrying a skinny little crow of a girl like that, just to give us all a roof to stay under!”

 Elinor stilled, even her heart and breath paused. Her hands suddenly felt like ice and her eyes burned. She huddled back into the wall.

 Suddenly she heard a thud and the wall seemed to shake slightly against her.

 “Your mouth is spewing filth again. Shut it before you cause trouble. Especially about the girl.” There was another thud. “She might be skinny now but she’s got time to grow into a beauty like her mother, you know. She’s got the hair for it, long and shiny and dark as the night sky.” Elinor suddenly pictured her brush running through her mother’s hair. It was true, they were similarly dark even if Elinor’s hair wasn’t nearly as long. Yet.

 The other lad tried to say something, but Elinor couldn’t catch any of it before Fergus started talking again. “And if she doesn’t look like her mum, it’s no matter to me. I’ve been watching her and she’s got a real fire in her. Haven’t you seen her glaring at everyone when it gets rowdy? Or ordering around men three time her size and making them help with cleaning and carrying whatever she wants? She’s going to be a wife to be proud. My wife, you great idiot, and your lady. So stop talking about her like that before I thump you all the way into the ground.”

Maybe he had been looking at her more than she had realized, even if he wouldn't meet her eyes. 

 

***

Two days later, Elinor and Fergus knelt before the priest and vowed to marry. Her mouth was dry and her hands were shaking.

So much was changing and yet it might make so little difference. They had both lost much to the fires and swords of war and unrest. Their families were under threat and the kingdom of the Northmen still loomed over the islands.

A large, warm hand wrapped and around hers and squeezed gently. She looked up at Fergus—kneeling, he was almost as tall as she would have been standing. He smiled at her and winked. It was the first time their eyes had met and his face was gentle and kind.

She would leave in the morning, to a strange land, where she would learn everything she possibly could. When she came home to this boy, this man, she would be a princess in heart and mind. Like the kings and queens of old, they would unite their clans, and wield fire and sword in their people’s defense.

She met his gaze firmly and proudly. When they rose, newly betrothed under holy vow, they were Elinor and Fergus of DunBroch.

 

 


	2. Blue Men and Green Ladies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second time Elinor met Fergus was the beginning of their life together.

**The Blue Men and Green Ladies: Wife to a Husband**

 

_Be careful, daughter mine, as you cross the Minch and go home to the islands. The Blue Men lurk in the sea-stream there, dancing in the waves and singing to the wind. They’ll dance and sing and race along and revel in storms and madness. And when they spot a ship going by, they’ll do their best to capsize it. But before they do, their chief will rise up and shout out two lines of poetry and if the captain can reply with two lines to complete the verse, you will be saved. But if he cannot, the ship and all aboard will meet their doom._

_The Blue Men are stronger than any man could match. It takes a swift and clever tongue to beat them._

_Your words matter, Elinor. Remember, legends—_

_“--are lessons. I will remember, mother.”_

Elinor did not meet Fergus again when she was sixteen nor even eighteen. She stayed seven years in her aunt’s home—and three months more after that to see her mother laid to rest. The southern lands had been good to Lady Cateline, for a while. She had taught Elinor to play on several instruments, had continued her education in reading and writing, and had continued to tell wonderful stories about princesses and fairies and many other things.

But eventually she had started fading again. She had returned to lying in bed through more and more days and had become less and less interested in everything around her. This time, at least, she had kept up her embroidery and Elinor had spent many afternoons in her mother’s rooms, working on tapestries and decorations while her mother softly spun her tales.

Elinor’s aunt had left her sister mostly to Elinor’s care, although she managed to get some assistance from a local abbey to help take care of the frail woman. By her eighteenth birthday, Elinor spent most of her day trying to get her mother to drink a bit of water, to eat a bit of food, to say a few words. Now, Elinor became the storyteller, repeating back stories to her mother.

If she still dreamed of being a princess, the dreams had starting fading in the daylight hours.

Elinor was nineteen when her mother found her peace. Kneeling in the family chapel, she prayed that her brothers would greet their mother at the gates to the afterlife. She was theirs to take care of now.

It was a wet and cold spring when Elinor left her aunt’s home, red-eyed and stone-faced. Her uncle sent a small group of his own men to escort her to the borders of the Norman lands, where her father’s men should be waiting to bring her home.

Her father’s men and her husband-to-be.

He wasn’t much of a letter writer, Fergus of DunBroch, but he had managed a few here and there over the years. His writing was clumsy and full of enthusiasm and atrocious spelling. The letters built upon what little she remembered of him to form a picture of the man she was going to marry, awkward and eager and secretly kind.

She knew he would be a man full-grown now, twenty-three and well and truly blooded in battle, as his letters had gleefully attested to. But in her mind’s eye he was still a large puppy of a boy, with flaming hair and gentle eyes. She desperately hoped there was something of that lad left in him; otherwise she would be marrying a complete stranger. 

 The days of travel passed in a daze for Elinor. This was the second time in her life that everything had changed around her and just like the first time, knowing it was coming hadn’t helped.

 As they came closer and closer to the border lands, Elinor felt more and more nervous. What would Fergus be like now? What would it be like to be married?

 She tried to distract herself by imagining her homecoming, but that was even worse. She hadn’t seen her father in over seven years. Would he recognize his twelve-year old daughter in the twenty-year old version? How much had the home she had grown up in changed? They had been planning to turn the old fort into a much larger castle—would any of the places she remembered still be the same? Would everyone be as much strangers as her new husband?

 Not a single one of her uncle’s men commented when she reined in her horse, slid off hurriedly, and vomited into a nearby bush. She was unspeakably grateful for their studied display of inattention.

 

***

As tall as she remembered him being and as stocky and muscular as his father had been, Elinor still wasn’t sure how the lanky boy she remembered turned into the bear of a man that greeted her.

He stood proudly and ready for a fight as the English and Norman party rode towards him and his men. His legs might as well have been tree trunks planted in the ground and his face a granite cliff.

Elinor didn’t recognize any of the men standing behind him, their hands on their weapons.

Her uncle’s men were clearly nervous about leaving her with these strange, fierce Scotsmen, but she firmly reassured them and gently insisted that they follow the plan that had been laid out. They caved to her persuasion, although they continued to glance nervously and unhappily back at Fergus and his men, who unhelpfully kept up their menacing and silent battle-readiness until the last horse had disappeared from view.

Then they relaxed slightly before bustling into motion. One man came over and checked the pack horse loaded with her possessions, grumbling and poking at the poor beast distrustfully. Others gathered their horses, making ready to leave.

 Fergus moved towards Elinor.

 She braced herself for her first greeting to her husband-to-be, but he stopped nearly a meter shy of her and her horse. Fergus’s eyes dipped down the line of her body and she felt herself stiffen in anger and insult until he stopped suddenly and followed the same line back up and suddenly she realized it hadn’t been her body he was tracing at all. His attention was completely captured by her hair.

 It was still as dark as her mother’s and now it was just as long. She hadn’t brushed it recently, but it was well cared for and healthy, she knew. She had reason to be proud of it—but she hadn’t seen a man quite so captivated by her hair before.

 She cleared her throat and was amazed when his eyes snapped to her face and his cheeks filled with a violent blush. He cleared his own throat, opened his mouth, then closed it again, still blushing. He bit his lip and then turned away to find his own horse.

 Suddenly she wasn’t afraid in the slightest.

 

***

 Of course, fear was a hard emotion to chase away forever.

 Fergus’s men had left a ship in a small cove along the shore, with two men guarding it. She was surprised when he handed off the leadership of the group of men. Half way through the voyage, she knew why. Fergus was huddled miserably in a corner, his head buried in his furs. His face had been nearly green last she had seen it.

 That had been just after he had roared at her to leave him be.

 Elinor leaned over the edge of the boat, reveling in the clean wind and sharp salt scent. Graceful lines of blue and silver flashed under the waves, dancing and darting through the wake of the boat. Elinor watched the water, trying to figure out what was hiding in the shadows and flickers of color.

 One of the crew caught her attention with a silent wave. He nodded out to the water and mouthed the words “Blue Men.”

 Elinor felt a shudder of excitement and fear run through her. The Blue Men of the Minch were stronger than any man and eager to capsize any boats treading through their territory. Once in the water, even Fergus wouldn’t stand a chance against them.

 Over the last few days of travel, Elinor had had ample opportunities to see just how strong he was. He had mostly gotten over his fit of shyness by the time they made camp that first night. His conversation was just as clumsy and eagerly excited as his letters had been and she barely knew how to respond to him. She felt at once as if she had known him for years and as if she didn’t know him at all.

 After a while, his conversation tapered off in the face of her quietness. It was his actions that spoke more to her.

 He lent her his cloak when it rained (even though she had her own), made sure she had the best and warmest bit of food at every meal (even when she protested that she wasn’t that hungry), and blushed fiercely every time she ducked away from the group to take care of her personal needs (though he also followed her and then, keeping his back carefully turned to her, stood watch as a firm and fierce guardsman).

 That sweetness had disappeared as soon as they had started seeing shorebirds and been able to smell the ocean. The man she was getting to know had disappeared into a short-tempered and brusque and very, very large man. She had wondered out loud if some strange magic had started turning him into the bear he resembled. His men had shook their heads at her and ignored her other remarks.

 She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to marry someone whose temper changed so suddenly.

 She glanced quickly towards him, his large frame somehow seeming almost impossibly small in his misery. She had never met a physically stronger man and now he seemed almost helpless. Perhaps there was more reason to his change of demeanor than she had realized.

 Elinor turned back to watch the water and the strange shapes playing under the waves. They didn’t seem to be any threat at the moment, but the Blue Men were known for being capricious. She remembered what her mother had told her about Blue Men and how they could only be defeated by a ready wit and bit of quick verse.

 After a while, she quietly stood up and moved over to Fergus. She gently laid a hand against his shoulder and, in a soothing and calm voice, started a story.

 “Once, a great kingdom stretched across the Western Islands. The lands were peaceful and if a raid or two happened here or a clan feud there, they were simple things and easily solved.

 “The greatest danger didn’t lie in men from inside or outside the kingdom. The true peril lay in the creatures of the wild and magic land and the greatest of these were the Green Ladies. They might appear like any women, young or old, haggard or beautiful. They can change their shapes however they wish and the Wee Folk all heed their call and follow their orders.

A Green Lady might be the most dangerous thing a man should ever meet—but she could also do him great boons if he managed to win her favor. A Green Lady will always keep her word to the very letter—though she will trick and sneak her way through those letters. The most important thing to remember, is that one should never, ever break one’s own promise to a Green Lady because her vengeance will be swift and terrible.”

 Fergus’s shoulder had shifted under Elinor’s hand. His eyes were peeking out at her from behind the curve of his arm and he was obviously listening intently, although his face was still pale and unhappy.

For the rest of their time on the water, Elinor shared her mother’s stories with her husband-to-be and the two of them moved closer and closer together, until his great head was resting in her lap.

Whether the boat had some special protection or they simply weren’t in the mood to cause trouble that day, the Blue Men did not surface and threaten their boat and both sea and skies remained calm.

When she asked Fergus later if he had seen the Blue Men, he scoffed at her. And then spent the next several days teasing her about her “superstitious ways” and “naïve believes”. It’s possible she kicked him when he helped her off her horse that night. A few times.

 

***

Dun Broch was not the same as the Dun Árd of her memories.

In some ways though, the new castle was much closer to her aunt and uncle’s home which had been home to her and her mother for so many recent years. It had its own echo of home. And there were bits and pieces that she remembered—here a tapestry her mother had made while Elinor practiced her own embroidery beside her, and there a carving that had scared her and Maudie silly one late night when they had been whispering ghost stories to each other.

Maudie was the same mix of strangeness and familiarity. She had taken charge of the kitchens under her own mother’s directions and she seemed far too busy to spend any time at all giggling in corners and whispering fantastical stories. Her elbows weren’t bony anymore and Elinor couldn’t even imagine the woman ever working up the courage to stick them into her lady’s ribs.

Her smile at Elinor was shy and uncertain but still friendly. (Edith wasn’t anywhere to be found. Elinor wondered if she really had married a farmer and gone off somewhere. She didn’t really want to know).

 Some of the furniture was familiar, though worn and damaged in ways beyond what she would have expected.

 Fergus’s dogs were constantly underfoot and the men of the Clan were rowdier and seemingly more prone to sudden brawls than she remembered.

 Her father was far frailer.

 In her mind, her father had always been the strong earth that supported her fragile mother and her brothers and herself. He would surely live forever.

 He had been wounded in a skirmish against raiding Northerners. In the same battle, Fergus’s father had fallen. Fergus had been acting as lord of DunBroch for months, while Elinor had been attending to her mother’s passing.

 Now she had come home just in time to attend to her father’s.

 

***

Fergus was like a rock sheltering Elinor from storms over the next few weeks. Busy as he was, he made time for her everyday as she took over her father’s care, bringing up food and drink to keep her going. He didn’t protest the slightest bit over the delay in their wedding (and she heard him laying into several older clansmen who made their own protests).

Elinor’s wedding day itself passed in the blink of an eye. It was generally overwhelmed by the occasion of her father’s funeral, just the day before, but the clan as a whole insisted on not delaying any further. Fergus might have been acting as lord of the clan for quite a while, but his legitimacy was built on the agreement centered around their marriage. Everyone would feel better once that was settled.

Elinor wasn’t sure she would, but it didn’t really matter.

 

***

 Three weeks later, being married was still strange. Sometimes it was strange how much it seemed to have changed and sometimes it was strange how little.

 She was the lady of DunBroch now. Amice had formally turned over the household keys and retreated back to Maudie’s side in the kitchens. And even though Fergus had essentially already been doing all of the work of the lord of the castle, he still seemed far busier and more put upon than he had been.

 Fergus still blushed when she caught him staring at her or running his hands through her hair in their bed. He didn’t blush at all when the men and women teased the two of them about the amount of noise coming from their bedroom or when she slapped his hand when he let it wander to parts of her that weren’t appropriate in public.

 She wasn’t sure she’d ever fully understand the man.

 Their first fight felt like it came out of nowhere. One moment Fergus was asking her about one of the stories she had told on the boat as they returned home over the water and the next he was teasing her for finding any sort of truth in “silly” legends and “fairy stories.” Her mother’s legends and stories.

 She didn’t remember deciding to slap his face, but the sound of it echoed through the room like a crack of thunder.

 Elinor retreated to her private room, which she had barely spent any time in at all since her marriage. In an effort to calm her mind, she focused on a tapestry she had started to set up when she had been taking a break from sitting by her father’s sick bed.

 Hours later, she heard Fergus sidle into the room. Even trying to be quiet, the man moved like a herd of cattle stamping on the hard stone of the castle floor. She sniffed to herself and decided to ignore his entrance.

 “You’re still that mad?”

 Elinor stilled, her hands tensing against the fabric. She took a deep breath and turned around. “What makes you think that?”

 “Well, you’re up here muttering to yourself…”

 “I don’t mutter!”

 “And if that needle were a sword, I think I’d be prettily badly off now.”

 “Don’t be ridiculous!” Her anger flared higher. Hours ago he had been the one calling her ridiculous in an incredibly patronizing tone of voice—the way one might sweetly call a beloved child silly before sending them off to entertain someone else with their fancies.

 “Ach well. I meant to say…that is. I’m sorry for distressing you, lass.”

 “Are you.” Elinor’s voice could have frozen a loch.

 “I’m sorry you’re upset. I’m not really sorry for thinking Blue Men hiding in the ocean are a silly tale, but I’m sorry to have shamed you for it.”

 It took quite a few more hours before the argument was mended and the Lord and Lady of DunBroch returned downstairs to the Great Hall. No one commented on the noise that echoed from their chambers. Elinor might be quiet in her anger, but in the grip of other passions she could be quite loud.

 Several days later, Elinor caught Fergus sitting quietly on a bench in the corner of the kitchen while she told the tale of the Green Lady and the pirate Mac Ean Yeer. She made sure to emphasize how beautiful the lady was, how powerful and magic, and how clever and wise. And how very, very much Mac Ean Yeer owed all of his good fortune to her.

 A week later, Fergus presented her with an absolutely gorgeous green kirtle and surcote. She wore it once, out of a desire to spite his mockery, and was amazed by the reaction it gained. Fergus followed her around like a lost puppy all day and he seemed constantly distracted and almost confused whenever anyone tried to speak to her.

 The green dress swiftly became her favorite.

 Elinor kept telling her stories, sometimes to a various mix of the clansmen and small children at during public meals; sometimes to herself as she went through her daily routines. The stories she shared with Fergus focused more on the ancient kings and the great deeds of warriors and that was alright.

 For years and years after, whenever she felt powerless or lost, Elinor would walk out of the castle to sit near the edge of the cliffs above the sea. She would watch the flashes of the ocean, searching for the Blue Men and reciting verses in her head, planning how she might confound their plans if ever she met one.

 Fergus never asked where she went but when she came home would sweep her up into a great hug. They would talk through their days and though they couldn’t always solve the problems that faced them, they would both feel better for the sharing.

 

***

After the wedding, DunBroch had started receiving many more visitors than Elinor remembered from her childhood. Elinor was very surprised when Lord MacGuffin came in late summer, only a few months after Elinor’s marriage. The various clans of the islands had never gotten along and raids between clans were more common if less devastating and deadly than raids from the Northmen. To see the MacGuffin himself peacefully visiting a neighbor was a bit of a shock. From Maudie, who had overcome some of her shyness at the changes in her childhood friend, Elinor learned that several lords had been visiting DunBroch over the last few years.

Fergus was trying to broker a peace between the clans—an alliance to finally drive out the invading Northmen. She listened to his arguments with Lord MacGuffin. He was at once the Fergus she had come to know and a complete stranger.

His words were clumsy and over eager and half the time he started a fight instead of stopping one. But he was also heartfelt and passionate and well-reasoned and the other half of the time she could see he was succeeding in swaying his audience.

Other lords visited too, sometimes together, sometimes alone. Something seemed to be changing, whether it was finally being done with years of an invading ‘kingdom’ claiming their lands or Fergus’s enthusiasm and determination. Something was changing the lords. Fergus might actually succeed in what many had thought of as his ‘mad venture.’

Elinor started to join his meetings as more than a silent observer. She smoothed over some of his clumsier tries at diplomacy, managed to turn insults into flattery, and soothed the hot tempers of the young lords several times. Fergus smiled at her gratefully but didn’t otherwise acknowledge when she stepped in.

At night, she started helping him plan what he would say over the next day. When he sometimes seemed about to forget the words, she stepped in and prompted him, letting him speak over her without any resentment. When she had her own words to say, his loud voice and large, strong body ensured that everyone listened to her.

 Together, they forged an alliance of legends. For the first time in centuries, the clans of the islands united. DunBroch’s banner, a mighty sword, stood side by side with the ever-full cauldron of the MacGuffin’s, the magical lyre of the Macintosh’s, and the ancient rock of the Dingwall’s. Under the leadership of Fergus of DunBroch, they would take back their islands from the warriors and kings of the North.

 

***

 When Fergus marched off to war with most of the clan’s able-bodied men and three clans he could barely trust behind him, Elinor didn’t shed a single tear. She desperately wanted to have a good cry, but she was afraid that if she started, she’d never stop. She threw herself into running DunBroch and making sure all of their remaining people were fed and healthy and that they’d be able to provide safety and care for those men who returned home.

 She wasn’t sure that she really believed Fergus would be one of them.

 Three brothers and her father had fallen to swords and fire. Elinor wasn’t really used to the men she loved returning from battle.

 Every night, Elinor sat by the window in her room and told herself the stories of her childhood. Over and over, she repeated the tales of the ancient kingdom of the Isles and the great Kings who defeated all of their foes and the great Queens who wove peace with their words. Over and over she repeated the stories of the Blue Men, strong and vicious and swayed by clever words and she thought of all the words she had shared with and given Fergus. Over and over she told herself about the Green Ladies, who could not be harmed by any weapon named to them, who wove spells with their words and appeared as a man’s true love. She pictured all of the weapons she could imagine on the battlefield and pictured them breaking against Fergus, his skin and muscles hard and sure as the rock of the castle.

 

***

 

She cried when Fergus returned. All the words in the world fled from her and, tears streaming down her face, she ran to meet him, not caring at all as her gown ripped and tore.

 Tales of battle had never captivated Elinor, but for years after, she sat through every one of Fergus’s tales of his exploits patiently and joyously. He had come home from them.

 Two months after Fergus returned, the lords of the three main clans that had followed him to war showed up at their gates. Apparently, they had stayed to make sure the Northmen weren’t returning, and then stopped by their homes to get new clothes and standards.

 Elinor, used to the ways of the men of the islands, was surprised they were so concerned about petty details such as cleanliness.

 When it turned out that this unusual care was because they wanted to look good at the coronation of their new King and Queen, she was plain shocked.

 Elinor wondered if her dreams of being a princess had come back to haunt her. Suddenly she wasn’t just an example to her clan, she wasn’t expected to be perfect occasionally; she needed to be a perfect figure all of the time to all of the clans.

 She felt completely unprepared—it was all so much bigger than she had ever planned for. Fergus, meanwhile, seemed to be completely immune to her doubts and concerns, which was infuriating.

 Fergus confided to Maudie that their chambers were full of quite a bit of muttering over the next few days and he was almost afraid to sleep. Maudie nodded wisely at him and then bustled off to make sure the kitchens were managing with the sudden feast plans.

 “Mother, I don’t know how to do this.” Elinor told her tapestry frame. She was sure that she didn’t mutter, whatever Fergus said, but she did return to telling herself stories. She wore her green dress every day as she worked through every story and legend she had ever heard involving kings and queens, and princesses and princes.

 Fergus listened attentively to every one, even as he started yawning more and more often during the day. He never scoffed or teased, not even when her stories veered back to the Blue Men and Green Ladies and the power of a clever tongue. He didn’t waver in his own conviction that the two of them could do this. He even managed to make her laugh once or twice by imitating the other lords in an attempt to convince her that they really wanted a king and queen.

 That they particularly wanted her to be queen.

 A queen could speak peace, could sooth the sharp sword-edges of feuds, could turn the fires of war into the warmth of hearth and home. A queen, like a princess, could change the fate of the entire land, Elinor thought to herself.

 The lost feeling that haunted Elinor didn’t really go away, even after she knelt in front of the priest, made her vows to her people, and rose with a crown around her head, but it was nothing compared to the determination that filled her.

 

***

Over the course of a scant few years, Elinor of DunBroch had become an orphan, a wife, and a queen. Fergus of DunBroch was by her side through all of it.

One day, their kingdom would also be legend and their stories would be told and retold and shaped into lessons that would ring with deep truths. For now, they stood together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: (information on Blue Men and Green Ladies mostly drawn from http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/celt/tsm/tsm08.htm)


End file.
